


too good to be (good for me)

by pretense



Category: DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Mornings, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-27 06:20:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7607068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pretense/pseuds/pretense
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a domestic kounoi compilation</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things have become like this lately: Noiz staying over long after they’ve finished in the bedroom, Koujaku coming home to a some snark and a ready meal. They never actually discussed a formal arrangement but what they have right now isn’t so bad.
> 
> [insp.](http://papanoiz.tumblr.com/post/143099259273/)

It’s been a few months since the fall of Platinum Jail. Rib is gaining traction again since Rhyme went under, all systems crumbling like rubbled remains of Oval Tower. At first it’s great, like the good old days especially with Mizuki getting discharged in close-to-perfect condition. Then the turf wars escalated. Without the walls of exclusivity guarding against the masses, the once esteemed sub-cities of Platinum Jail became a free-for-all arena. New Ribsteez groups were popping up like mushrooms before being absorbed (if not entirely disbanded) by older institutions.

Today saw a skirmish in the outer reaches of their territory, a decently-sized team of hamfisted brutes claiming what has already been tagged with Benishigure art. Koujaku comes just in time, turning the tide to their favor with a swing of his blade.

The neighborhood is quiet, the evening rush having just passed. Navy darkness takes over the amber sky, setting the streetlights aglow. Koujaku has Beni navigating their way home, avoiding busy roads where he’s sure to be accosted. He walks through the front door and Noiz is striding out of his kitchen, bowl in one hand, slurping up what looks like noodles.

“The hell?” an enraged squawk comes from the foyer courtesy of the Allmate perched on Koujaku’s shoulder. Beni takes flight with ruffled feathers. “What are you still doing here?”

Noiz turns, cheeks rounding as he sucks in his food and swallows. Koujaku is back early, and not in the state Noiz expects after a whole day catering to pretty women.

“Who blacked your eye?”

“The little girl who wanted a bob cut,” Koujaku replies tartly, pulling off his shoes. “Who do you think?”

“Heard it on the patrol radio,” Noiz jerks his head over to where a dozen Pseudo Rabbits are flitting about. The little cubes have tackled Beni from mid-air, excitedly chirping much to the latter’s annoyance. “Ribsteez altercation, Upper East side of town. Benishigure and a bunch of Stray Dogs or whatever.”

“You should really stop hacking into government records,” Koujaku says, moving past the blond and dislodging the weapon strapped to his back. He props it behind the couch and bodily heaves himself onto the cushioned seats, biting back a curse when the careless motion puts pressure on tender areas.

“There was nothing good on TV.” Noiz shrugs, following the older man and half-seating on the armrest of the same couch. Swallowing another mouthful of food, Noiz listlessly stirs the cold soba with his chopsticks when Koujaku doesn’t take the bait. Looking down at him, Noiz spies gauze patches on his chest and hands, more nicks coming into view as Koujaku discards his gauntlets and unrolls the bindings on his forearms. “So who did it? Your black eye.”

“Why d’you want to know?” Koujaku huffs, meeting narrow green eyes. “Gonna send them flowers?” He gets a one-armed shrug, aloof, but Koujaku can see the tense line of Noiz’ mouth, bottom lip subconsciously jutting out, fang piercings glinting beneath it. He smiles, hoping the action will put the blond at ease. “It wasn’t even a strong hit.”

“It’s swelling,” Noiz points out, something accusative in his tone, gesturing at the apple of his own cheek with the chopsticks.

“Hagima told you to put ice on that,” Beni pipes up, suddenly reminded of the fact. The Pseudo Rabbits around him start chanting, “Ice! Ice! Ice!”

Koujaku deflates, words to tell them off at the tip of his tongue when Noiz sets his bowl and chopsticks on the low table before the couch. Loudly. The force of it enough to make the thick noodles slosh around. He walks off towards the kitchen, grumbling “You’re getting too old for that shit” and Koujaku watches him, stunned. The wide collar of Noiz’ t-shirt shows an abundance of love bites, more of which are covered up by the long sleeves and leggings he wears. Koujaku wonders, not for the first time, when did he stop caring and started _caring._

There’s an urgency in Noiz’ steps despite his gangling gait. He settles on the couch, nudging Koujaku aside, the furrow between his brows saying the other should’ve gone to a hospital instead.

An ice pack is pressed to his cheek none too gently, making him yelp and jump. “Hey now,” Koujaku says with a wince, placing his hand over Noiz’ on the ice pack to ease it off. “You trying to beat me up, too?”

“Sorry,” Noiz mutters, retracting his hand and leaving Koujaku to it. This close, he sees that the bruise isn’t as serious as he’d first thought -- about half an inch away from the eye, puffy but nowhere close to purpling. His attention moves to Koujaku’s hand, at the new scars and scrapes revealed by unfurled bandages. “D’you need to put salve on that?” he asks, wondering if there’s still enough in the first aid kit, having helped himself to it more than once before.

“Oh this?” Koujaku lowers the ice pack, flexing his hand to survey the damage. “The guys already administered first aid. Wouldn’t let me leave until it was all wrapped up. They probably overdid it, though, feels like pins and needles in there…”

Noiz nods. It’s good that Koujaku’s Rib team takes care of him. Still. He takes Koujaku’s hand, lightly tracing the edges of the reddened area, pressing fingertips into the groves of his palm, not looking up when he asks, “You sure you don’t need more salve?”

“Positive,” Koujaku replies, not sure why he felt a little breathless. Noiz finally raises his gaze, short lashes fanned over emerald orbs.

“Okay,” he says, before pressing a feather-light a kiss over Koujaku’s knuckles. The flush that rises to his cheeks complements the row of hickies down his neck.

Koujaku swallows.

Noiz feels a need to explain, “It’s a charm. For quick recovery.”

“Y-Yeah, I know.” Ice crunches beneath the tight grip Koujaku has on the ice pack once Noiz lets go of his hand.

Clearing his throat, Noiz shifts his posture, finding the bowl of noodles he’d set down earlier. Before he can reach for it, however, Koujaku cries out.

“Ah, it hurts!”

“What does--?”

“Here.” Koujaku points at his lips. “Kiss it better?”

 

(“That’s original,” Beni rolls his eyes, having settled on the table before the couch. The Pseudo Rabbits are tumbling about Koujaku’s discarded beads and gauntlets; one of them is wearing the red tassel like wig.)

 

Noiz huffs, warm breath dancing over moist lips. “You think you’re so smooth.”

“All evidence points to yes,” Koujaku grins, tilting Noiz’ face towards him for easy access. A smile is molded between their mouths, relief and thinly-veiled desire prolonging the chaste kiss. When they part, Koujaku couldn’t resist stealing one last peck before pulling away completely.

Replacing the ice pack on Koujaku’s cheek to dissuade further attempts, Noiz’ eyes dart towards the bowl he’d left on the table. “There’s food for you in the kitchen.”

Things have become like this, lately, Noiz staying over long after they’ve finished in the bedroom, Koujaku coming home to a some snark and a ready meal. Sometimes Noiz would stay for days, loaning clothes, his Pseudo Rabbits strewn all over the place. Sometimes Koujaku would wake up in the middle of the night, searching for the electric glow of virtual screens only to face pitch black night and silence. They never actually discussed a formal arrangement but what they have right now isn’t so bad.

“Thanks,” Koujaku says, craning his neck a little to spot take out bags sitting on his kitchen table a room over. “But I’m not hungry yet. You go ahead with dinner.”

“Breakfast,” Noiz corrects, reaching for the bowl. There’s a rabbit cube balancing on the lip. Noiz picks it up with his chopsticks and flicks it in Beni’s direction, smirking.

The Allmate’s affronted “Hey!” is drowned out by excited beeps, Pseudo Rabbits blinking in excitement as they catch their fellow cube.

Koujaku gives him a look, then shakes his head. “Not watching anything today?” he murmurs, noticing the lack of a blaring TV.

“I finished the series last night,” Noiz says after swallowing a mouthful, dark circles under his eyes bearing proof. “Well, the first season anyway. I’ll probably start the season two later.”

“Don’t stay up too late,” Koujaku hums, sitting back. He nurses his cheek and rests his aching muscles while Noiz amiably digs in to breakfast at six in the evening. Noiz leans against his arm and Koujaku accommodates him, listening to the subdued chewing sounds.

When the weight beside him shifts, Koujaku stirs, cracking his eyes open; he doesn’t even remember closing them.

“Get up,” Noiz says, observing him keenly. “Go to bed if you’re that tired.”

A trembling yawn climbs up his throat, escaping in an exhale that fools no one. Koujaku pulls the ice pack away, handing it to Noiz. “I think I’ll take a shower first…”

 

The dishes are left to dry on a rack by the sink. Noiz pads back to the living room, following a midi tune. Koujaku’s coil is blinking bright, beside it Beni is caught in indecision. He looks up at Noiz.

“It’s Aoba.”

“You’re not gonna answer?” Noiz quirks a brow, striding over and picking up the ringing device.

Beni squawks indignantly at him. “Oi! Don’t answer that--”

“Too late~” Noiz accepts the call and a holographic screen pops up, displaying a very worried Aoba.

“Koujaku! Finally, I--” The rant stops midway as amber eyes process who he’s seeing. Gaping mouth shutting quick, Aoba rubs at his eyes as if to make sure he’s not seeing things. “ _Noiz?_ ”

“You jerk!” Beni exclaims, landing roughly on top of the blond’s messy hair.

“Yo,” Noiz nods at Aoba, completely ignoring the Allmate that’s made itself a nest on his head.

“What--” Aoba starts, then seems to think the better of it. “Why are you answering Koujaku’s coil?” He squints, gaze darting past Noiz. “Are you in his house?”

“He’s in the shower,” Noiz says, getting straight to the point. “Cleaning up his new battle scars.”

Aoba makes a frustrated sound, slapping his palm to his forehead. “That stupid hippo,” he grumbles.

Noiz’ brow hitches up at the… nickname? insult?

“He’s not badly injured, though, is he?” Aoba asks, looking from Noiz to Beni. “The news said people got sent to the hospital from that fight.”

“C’mon, Aoba,” Beni huffs. “Koujaku is tougher than that!”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t worry, anyway,” Aoba fires back, though his expression grows at ease. “Mizuki went to check their headquarters earlier but he wasn’t there. Said the other guys look pretty roughed up.”

Beni flaps his wings, agitated. “Feh, they’re fine. And those Dogs won’t be encroaching on our territory any time soon.”

“See, now I’m imagining Koujaku with a fist in the air, yelling _Get off my lawn._ ”

“That’s what I’ve been saying.” Noiz meets Aoba’s grin.

“You swear he’s okay, though?” Aoba wants to make sure, leveling Noiz with a serious gaze.

“He’ll live,” Noiz replies, somber.

Nodding, Aoba flashes a smile. “Okay, I believe you.” He holds that expression for another second, then his tone changes completely. “So~ You’re looking awfully comfy over there~”

 

Koujaku hangs his towel to dry, damp hair wetting the back of his loose shirt. He pads into the room, shivering slightly from the breeze that enters through the wide open windows. Noiz is fiddling with his Allmates at the foot of the bed, coil screen showing some sort of scan in progress. He does a double-take when he sees Beni peacefully roosting on top of strawberry blond hair. _Fuck, that’s adorable_. He wants to snap a photo but his coil is missing from his wrist. He finds his discarded garments on the bedside table, the beaded device resting on top of folded gauntlets.

“Hey.” Koujaku makes his presence known, picking up his coil as he sits down beside the busy teen.

“Aoba called,” Noiz informs him, eyes flicking over before returning to his screen. “He heard about the fight and got worried.” A rabbit cube bounces away, completely scanned and updated. “I told him you were fine.”

“Uh, thanks?” Koujaku’s coil greets him with three new messages -- one from Mizuki and two from Aoba. He’s touched by their concern… then he reads the latest message from Aoba and his face pales then flushes red. Peering over at Noiz, Koujaku’s stomach feels like a pit of lava. “Hey, Noiz…”

“Hm?”

Koujaku chews his bottom lip when Noiz remains distracted, rather unwilling to face him. A few seconds pass and he realizes the screen before Noiz is static. Closer inspection reveals a pinkish tint on his cheeks, veiled by the glow of holographic panels. _So that’s how it is..._

Clearing his throat, Koujaku inches closer. “Thanks for taking care of dinner.”

“You’re welcome,” Noiz says, a surprising lack of sarcasm in his tone.

How did Koujaku ever believe that this guy didn’t have manners? Watching his profile, an unbidden smile pulls at Koujaku’s lips. The glowing screen before him remains idle.

“Do you need something?” Noiz turns to him with a quirked brow, the piercings at the corner of it glinting.

“Only if you’re not busy.” Koujaku sends him a meaningful look, one that’s notorious for sending sparks of excitement down Noiz’ spine, but it feels muted this time, less… charged. He moves back until he’s at head of the spacious bed, reclining against fluffed pillows. “Come here,” Koujaku gestures at the space between his legs, parted wide enough for Noiz’ to fit comfortably.

Minimizing the screen, Noiz crawls over, green eyes bright with curiosity under the moonlight. He presses up against Koujaku, chest to chest, hands grasping at the pillows on either side of his waist. “What?”

The single word shoots out low and husky that Koujaku forgets himself for a second. Only when he looks past the half-lidded gaze and sees Beni watching him -- looking like he’s one second away from bolting, unwilling to subject himself to what’s bound to happen -- does Koujaku get a grip. “Turn around,” he instructs, pushing at Noiz’ shoulder to guide him.

“Like this?” Noiz asks over his shoulder, ass landing right on Koujaku’s crotch.

Now Koujaku has to admit that’s quite a view but it’s not exactly what he’s going for. “No! No, on the bed, sit on the bed!” He grabs Noiz by the waist and sets him down properly. “There.”

“What.” Noiz looks around himself, startling a little when Koujaku pulls him back against his chest. Muscular arms wrap around his middle and he hears a sigh right beside his ear. “What is this?”

“I’m cuddling with you,” Koujaku says, a big toothy grin on display. He looks so proud of himself, Noiz gets secondhand embarrassment.

“Eh…” Noiz’ hands don’t know what to do with themselves. No matter how he looks at it, Koujaku’s hold on him is secure. Deflating, he lolls his head back until it’s resting on Koujaku’s shoulder, giving him the opportunity to side-eye the older man. “No sex?”

“Mm, not tonight,” Koujaku answers easily. “I’m pretty beat.”

“Finally, some peace and quiet around here,” Beni quips, hopping out of Noiz’ hair. His little wooden sandals clacking against the window sill where he settles down.

Noiz’ ears glow red and Koujaku chuckles, hugging him just a bit tighter. “Don’t listen to Beni. I like it when you’re loud.” For that, he gets a palm to the face, pushing him away. “Ow! Ow! Noiz--!“

Noiz quickly pulls his hand back, eyes wide at remembering the injury. “I - S-sorry.” His fingers hover uncertainly by Koujaku’s face.

“It’s fine,” Koujaku tells him after taking a moment to compose himself. As it to prove his point, he leans into Noiz’ palm, offering a smile.

Noiz stares, then - oh so gently - he caresses Koujaku’s swollen cheek. “I don’t know how this feels,” he reminds the other. “So you have to tell me, okay? Tell me if I’m hurting you.”

“You’re not,” Koujaku replies, just as earnest. He kisses Noiz’ hand, soft and lingering. “I just need to rest this and it will heal. Relax.”

Green eyes flit about his face, studying his expression, until Noiz finally nods. Retracting his hand, he settles back against Koujaku. Closing his eyes for a bit, he breathes in the shower-fresh fragrance that’s enveloping him. “What now?”

“Up to you.” Koujaku shrugs, reclining a bit further against the pillows and pulling Noiz along. “I’m just here to enjoy your company.”

“You definitely won’t enjoy watching me work,” Noiz points out, opening his coil and closing the running applications. He can get back to those later, not really in the mood to stare at codes when Koujaku’s wrapped around him like this. “A movie then?”

“Sounds great,” Koujaku agrees. “Just not one of those silly romcoms.”

“Really?” Noiz raises a brow at the request, loading up a list of recent movies. “Your online subscription tells me you enjoy those.”

“Lies,” Koujaku retorts, scanning the titles. “All lies.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Ooh, that one. Pick that one.”

Noiz follows the pointing finger towards a suspense flick. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I missed that when it aired in cinemas.”

“Okay, then.”

 

About three-fourths into the movie, Noiz gets an earful of breathy snores. Koujaku is slumped over him, a solid weight against his back, nose burrowed in the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Pausing the film, he arranges Koujaku to a proper laying position and covers him up with a blanket.

Checking the movie’s remaining run time, Noiz decides he might as well finish it. Koujaku might ask about the ending later. He doesn’t really need to lie down for it, getting under the covers won’t improve his viewing experience in any way, yet here he is -- snuggled up with Koujaku, watching the final act build up in muted volume.

He can get used to this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Man walks into a bar covered in kiss marks* haha yeah well you should see the other guy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original post.](http://hopaiskalos.tumblr.com/post/128998046043)

It started that morning he woke up with Noiz asleep beside him – not a cold spot long vacated, not a sleepless blond tinkering with his gadgets – an honest to god Noiz in deep slumber. It stunned him, to say the least. Koujaku hardly dared to breathe lest it broke the spell cast by pale gold sunlight over the serene features.

Koujaku sat there, entranced for the better part of the morning. Noiz slept in the nude and Koujaku saw evidences of last night’s session where the blankets had parted due to the blond’s turning in his sleep. He looked even younger, Koujaku observed, scarred hand hovering over the pierced face, very much tempted to feel the magic for himself. He stopped short of actually running his hand through Noiz’ hair – strawberry blond, he’d discovered with barely quelled amazement.

Much as he tried to will his legs to move, to get up and leave before this staring bordered on creeper-levels, Koujaku was still sitting there when bright green eyes peeked through short lashes.

Noiz’ brows wrinkled in confusion, looking a little lost until his gaze finally landed on Koujaku and a slow smile pulled at his lips.

“Good morning,” Noiz greeted in that scratchy, sleep-lagged voice and the reality of the situation finally pierced through Koujaku’s mind.

“Let’s be exclusive,” Koujaku blurted out, shrinking almost immediately after for his lack of tact. He’s usually much more suave than that but it’s not like he had asked that question very often. The total number of his serious girlfriends can be counted on one hand; and he has never actually had a boyfriend before so --

“I, uh, I meant… You know, dating?”

Noiz rose slowly, confusion clouding his features, and Koujaku prepared to receive some biting remark. What he actually got bulldozed through the mountain of nerves that has built up.

“I thought we already were…”

* * *

The week following that felt like they were getting to know each other all over again. Where Koujaku once warily refused Noiz’ advances, they now tumbled into the sheets hand in hand. Noiz had always been bold but blatant permission boosted his confidence, breaking past their limits. Koujaku’s indulgence only served to fuel that fire, resulting in glaring evidences that nobody could miss.

It was all nice and good until that fateful afternoon that Koujaku walked into Black Needle with swollen lips and dried blood under his nose. His hair was a little tousled and his kimono a little looser than he usually wore it.

Mizuki eyed his friend, worry knitting his brows together. “What happened?” he asked, leaning over the bar counter. “Did you get into a fight?”

“What?” Koujaku grins. It’s a little too happy and that makes Mizuki worry if the hairdresser got his brain addled in the scuffle. “I’m totally fine.”

“You’re covered in bruises,” Mizuki pointed out. He reached over and poked Koujaku’s chest where a reddish mark bloomed, threatening to turn purple if not iced soon.

Koujaku flinched, looking down at the spot with raised brows. “Oh.”

“Yeah, _oh_ ,” Mizuki repeated, testy. He doesn’t understand why Koujaku only grinned wider at the find.

“This is nothing.” Koujaku breezily waved off Mizuki’s concern, getting all squinty-eyed with the stretch of his smile when he says, “You should see the other guy~”

Before Mizuki could comment, the front door opened and in walked the last person he’d expect. There's a handful of Dry Juice members in the bar and they're definitely displeased with the newcomer. Surprisingly enough, they let the man go about his way in peace.

“Hey.” Noiz raised a hand in greeting, ignoring the pointed glares. Koujaku eagerly waved him over, pointing to the empty seat next to him.

As the blond approached, Mizuki took a critical look at his appearance - untucked undershirt, loose tie, and misaligned buttons. Noiz sported the same swollen lips that Koujaku wore, with a bonus trail of what Mizuki realized (with a strike of horror) to be lovebites going down his neck.

“Everything good with Ruff Rabbit?” Koujaku asked, casual like he actually cared about some _Rhyme_ groupie.

Noiz nodded, muttering something about a system backup that needed his authorization in order to be accessed.

Now Mizuki has to admit that he has lost touch with the who’s-who following his two-month stay at the hospital but _this_? Nobody warned him about this! He could only watch, dumbfounded, as Koujaku nudged Noiz’ shoulder, a teasing look in his eyes, and Noiz returned with a good-humored smirk, leaning his chin on his hand as he directed a half-lidded gaze at the older man.

“Excuse me but what the hell is going on?”

Mizuki is aware that he _might_ have sounded just a tiny bit hysterical back there but he’s pretty sure that Koujaku and Noiz were _flirting_ right in front of him and that could _not_ be right.

Koujaku and Noiz looked at each other then back to Mizuki. They appeared just as confused at Mizuki’s outburst as the bartender is about… whatever it was that had him staring at them in total disbelief.

Then Noiz straightened up, a metaphorical light bulb switching on over his head. He turned towards Koujaku looking mildly disapproving. “You forgot to tell him, didn’t you?”

“Tell me what?” Mizuki asked, frowning.

Koujaku mimicked his friend’s expression, “Yeah, what are you - oh!” And then it dawned on him. He quickly glanced between Mizuki and Noiz, starting to look sheepish until he cleared his throat to speak. “That’s funny because I could have sworn…” Noiz rolled his eyes at him and Koujaku focused on Mizuki instead. “Anyway, are you sure didn’t I tell you?”

“ _Tell me what?_ ” Mizuki repeated, a little edgy now.

“That Noiz and I are dating?” Koujaku finished. “Because we are. Dating.”

Cool green eyes squinted at the pair. Mizuki pointed an accusing finger at Koujaku, “You and…” he slowly moves it towards the younger man.

“Me. Yeah.” Noiz gave a one-armed shrug as if to say ‘ _funny how that worked out, huh?’_

“H-How did that happen?”

* * *

“Exclusive?” Koujaku repeated, cautious because things couldn’t be this easy between them. It surely defied some law of nature or something.

But Noiz only nodded, cheeks flushing at the realization of his one-sided understanding of their (admittedly vague) relationship. What else was he supposed to think? Koujaku patched up his bruises, fed him, even shared bed space… granted, Koujaku didn’t have much a choice in that last one. All that combined with the man’s adamant refusal of Noiz’ advances as means of repayment; it doesn’t take much strength for Koujaku to hold Noiz down and dissuade him.

Koujaku blinked, then slowly moved closer. Noiz watched him approach, anxious but trusting, and Koujaku is filled with some strong urge to gather him in his arms. “We should talk about this,” he suggested.

“What a great idea,” Noiz couldn’t help the sarcasm. “Because that is exactly what we’re doing right now. Talking.”

“No no no no, I mean…” Koujaku took Noiz’ hands, willing the other man to do away with his games. “I want you to think about this seriously. I’m serious about you.”

“And did you not hear about how I pretty much thought we were _actually_ dating until now?” Noiz retorted, the color on his face spreading down his neck and bare shoulders; the bandages around them thankfully held no traces of a reopened wound. He squeezed Koujaku’s hands. This isn’t something that he is used to, not something that he had looked forward to but it happened. It happened and he doesn’t exactly want it to stop just yet. “Look, do you want to be boyfriends or not?”

“I do,” Koujaku affirmed without wasting a second.

“Then it’s settled.”

“Okay.”

“We’re boyfriends.” Noiz stumbled a little on the designation but he managed to deliver the rest of the statement smoothly, smile curling at the corner of his lips once he finished.

“We are.”

In that sun-strewn bed on an early Thursday morning, Koujaku felt like he was the luckiest man alive.

“… Can I kiss you now?”

Noiz leaned in, his answer delivered in the chaste press of lips, spreading a warmth more encompassing than a summer day.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> when two wrongs find something right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original post.](http://hopaiskalos.tumblr.com/post/134182206463)

Beni is on the counter, reading out police reports of an incident that occurred late last night near the lower town’s tenement block. The fight left two gang members hospitalized but they refused to give out the names of the offenders, leading authorities to conclude that the apparent victims were the instigators themselves.

Koujaku notes it with a hum, adding a bowl of diced ham, some green peas, and a pinch of salt and pepper into the pan of fried rice. He mixes it all evenly, taking his time on a peaceful Sunday morning. Bandaged hands skillfully maneuver the ingredients, tossing them around with a spatula. He wipes away the sweat beading over his nose, a new smaller cut recently joined the horizontal slash that has long healed over its bridge. The kettle wails, shooting out steam on the other burner. Koujaku turns it off and leaves the fried rice cooking while he pours hot water into two mugs of coffee.

Kerosene-blue flames lick the underside of the pan, flavor oozing out of the mix and melting together to create a sweet smell that wafts all the way to the bedroom. It gets Noiz out of his comfy red cocoon, idly picking up a shirt on his way out. He’s still in the middle of wresting it on when he reaches the kitchen, blinking owlishly looking at the spread on the table.

“About time you got up!” Beni says, feathers a little ruffled.

Noiz’ expression slides into a smirk. The blond steps behind Koujaku and wraps his arms around the older man’s waist. “What day is it? Did this guy really fuck me into next week like the promised?”

Koujaku smiles, feeling the familiar planes of Noiz’ body press against his back, the weight of the man’s head resting between his shoulder blades. He shuts off the stove as Beni squawks indignantly.

“Play nice, you two,” Koujaku admonishes, threading his fingers through Noiz’ and unclasping the blond’s hands over his stomach. “And Noiz…” Koujaku turns around, creating a foot’s distance between their bodies. “Please don’t stick so close to me. I’m… sweaty.” 

A tilt of the head. Noiz looks at their joined hands, a brief wonder over the bandages’ security around Koujaku’s knuckles passing through his mind. He follows the tattooed arm to the man’s bare chest, exposed by his loose robe. “I don’t mind.”

“Well, I do.” He raises Noiz’ hand to his lips, a soft pressure against warm skin. “Take a seat. Breakfast is ready.”

Noiz huffs, worming his hand out of Koujaku’s grasp. Fingertips skitter over the defined jaw, peppered with stubble that lends a darker shade to that particular stretch of skin. He hasn’t noticed them before, not even last night when Koujaku spent most of the late hours kissing him and nuzzling close. It has become clear that the Rib leader takes pleasure in small comforts after a particularly rough day. Telling him off about his turf skirmishes has become a moot point in their relationship and Noiz focuses instead on patching up his wounds afterwards. 

Koujaku tenses when the wandering digits slide over his nape and stay there. “Does it look weird?” he deems to ask. He’d been foregoing a shave for a couple of days now, not that facial hair grows quickly on him, but it’s something that he thought looked good, looked more befitting for someone his age. None of this customers seemed to mind, but a certain someone’s opinion certainly bears more weight to him.

Noiz steps closer and Koujaku is glad that he had already turned off the stove lest something (most likely his robe) catches fire with the way he finds himself pressed against the appliance. There’s a curious focus in Noiz’ gaze as he rises on his feet, pulling Koujaku down so they could meet midway and –

“Gah!” Koujaku flinches, feeling something wet on his face. A long lick from his chin to some point just off the corner of his lips. He stares at Noiz but the blond’s expression doesn’t give anything away, pink tongue merely slipping back into his mouth.

“Feels weird.” Noiz gives his judgment with a shrug. “But it doesn’t look bad.”

“I’m glad to have your approval,” Koujaku says, heart relieved and aflutter as he pecks Noiz on the lips. The smile that he finds when he pulls back makes the morning all the more brighter, better, and everything feels right.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> body language

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original post.](http://hopaiskalos.tumblr.com/post/139594743623)

Koujaku doesn’t think himself vain by any stretch. The shelves of beauty products that line his bathroom are a necessity given his day job. The same could be said of the barbells parked at a corner of the living room, metal weights eroded with regular use. There are appearances to maintain, after all, and what would Koujaku be if not made up of others’ perception of him.

He wakes up to a sweltering summer dawn, immediately drawing the windows open to let the crisp morning air flow in. On the bed, Noiz remains asleep, nose buried in Koujaku’s pillow that he’s hugging against his bare chest. He doesn’t appear to be disturbed by the sudden coolness of the room. But of course, Koujaku remembers, Noiz has this odd condition. So he covers Noiz with a blanket. Looking down at the peaceful blond like this, Koujaku allows a fond smile to grace his lips. It’s then that he notices the unsubtle tent in his sweatpants, turning the fond mien sheepish.

 _Maa_ , he’s a warm-blooded man in his prime, no matter how many times Noiz jokingly calls him ‘old man.’ Koujaku spares one last look at the sleeping Noiz before quietly making his way out of the room.

There are pork buns in the refrigerator from Aoba’s granny, needing just a bit of reheating before they’re edible breakfast food. Koujaku takes out a large pot, fills it with some water, and adds a strainer hanging above it. He sets the buns on the strainer and covers the pot.

It’s a Friday, the busiest day in his schedule as far as weekdays go, so Koujaku is looking to start early. Maybe around ten, he decides, setting the stove on low fire and putting the makeshift steamer and a teakettle in place.

Koujaku moves the few pieces of furniture in his living room aside to allow him space for his daily workout, hitting up the radio to fill in the silence. He starts from top to bottom, easy stretches, holding poses. Sweat breaks out soon enough, condensating on tan skin, droplets running down his bare back as Koujaku moves on from situps to do pushups on the floor.

  _Rising up, back on the street  
_ _Did my time, took my chances…_

His ears perk up, hearing the familiar tune blast from the radio. Koujaku smiles through gritted teeth, feeling energized as he lowers himself on the floor then lifts his own weight with just his arms.

_Went the distance, now I’m back on my feet  
_ _Just a man and his will to survive_

_So many times it happens too fast_

“You trade your passion for glory,” Koujaku sings along, well, mutters more like as he keeps a mental count in his head. _24… 25…_

_Don’t lose your grip on the dreams of the past  
_ _You must fight just to keep them alive!_

_It’s the –_

“Eye of the tiger?” a muffled voice asks, sounding both rhetorical and sleepy.

 Koujaku is grateful for his infallible grip keeping him upright despite his surprise at the sudden appearance. He looks up, masking his near-heart attack with a grin. “You’re up. Did you sleep all right?”

“Your radio is too loud,” Noiz complains, gangly limbs folding as he settles on the floor, still too groggy to remain standing. He’s clad in just boxers, metal piercings glinting off rosy skin and its faint discolorations. There’s a large hickey by his collarbones that makes Koujaku blush just looking at it.

“Sorry. You can turn it off,” Koujaku holds conversation as he continues his push ups. “If you’re hungry, I’ve got pork buns cooking–”

“Mm.” Noiz nods absently, body giving up on holding him up and he slumps to the floor, arm folded under his head to cushion it.

Koujaku pauses in his workout, chiding him, “Go back to bed if you’re still sleepy. You’ll catch a cold laying there.”

“I don’t like sleeping alone in your bed,” Noiz says, bleary green eyes gazing at Koujaku. “Just-” he yawns “-keep doing your pushups…”

It’s that pouty little smile that does him in. Koujaku resumes as instructed, humming to the radio as the song belts out another chorus. _37… 38…_

Noiz observes him quietly, waiting for his body to catch up with his mind’s wakefulness. Maybe he is being a tad unreasonable… he knows how ridiculous he looks, laying on the floor in his boxers and watching another man work out, but Noiz can’t be bothered to focus on than one thing at a time when his brain is just booting up. Besides, it’s no hardship to watch the play of muscles as Koujaku hones his already impressive physique.

“Do some stretches with me.”

The invitation comes as the lyrics give way to guitar riffs. Noiz shrugs one shoulder, apathetic, but he moves closer to Koujaku, rolling on the floor.

“What if I sit on your back as you do push ups?” he proposes, amused by the tick that appears on Koujaku’s  forehead.

“How about no,” Koujaku replies, testy. “Unless  you want me to break my back… Where did you even get that idea?”

“The internet.”

Koujaku grumbles something that Noiz doesn’t heed, busy as he is crawling into position. Next thing he knows, Noiz has squeezed himself between him and the floor, leaving Koujaku is stuck mid-push.

“And this is…?” Koujaku intones the question. When Noiz merely smirks at him, he adds, “I can’t move with you there.”

“Sure you can.”

Koujaku eyes him suspiciously.

“Come on,” Noiz taunts, not even trying to act innocent about it. He lays there, awaiting Koujaku’s descent and once they’re nose to nose, Noiz juts his chin just so, pecking the tightly pursed lips.

“I knew you were gonna do that,” Koujaku mutters.

“And you let me,” Noiz counters with a hint of pride. He breathes deeply, their chests touching as with the expansion and Koujaku pushes off.

It’s too late to try and keep his sweat off the younger man when Noiz is literally in a shallow not-quite-pool of it beneath him. In addition to that, salty precipitation keeps flicking off Koujaku’s muscular build, urged along by the heat of the morning that only seems to get hotter as the sun climbs the summer sky.

_44… Kiss. 45… Kiss. 46…_

Noiz thinks he should be smug about this achievement, but instead he’s filled with an indescribable lightness. They part and Noiz chews on his bottom lip, staring up at red eyes crinkled with mirth.

“What’s the matter?” Koujaku asks, dropping his next kiss at the corner of Noiz’ mouth.

 _Push._ “I want…” _Kiss._ “More.”

“Ah.” Koujaku figured out that much.

It’s not that Koujaku is holding out on him… well, in a way, _maybe_. Because Noiz never really thought twice about offering his body before; he kept insisting for Koujaku to use him as repayment for the countless times he dressed his bruises, all the while feeling sorrier for the younger man. Koujaku dismissed him, told him to stop (stop picking fights, getting hurt, trying to blow him) but Noiz is stubborn. Since Koujaku won’t take sexual pleasure as repayment, Noiz found out about the other things he likes – good drinks, good food, little meditation trinkets, his preferred cigar brand – and their acquaintanceship began to blur the lines. He bandages Noiz’ sprained foot, Noiz takes him out to dinner, rumors grow, rumors… come true.

Because Koujaku is not blind and as much as he wants to ignore the embers sparking in his chest, it’s kind of hard to do that when Noiz is tipsy and clingy against his side, cool facade broken by faint giggles as they walk home under neon streetlights. It’s better this way, Koujaku convinces himself, tucking Noiz into bed, knowing that he’ll wake up in the morning with Noiz’ face in the crook of his neck, or on his chest, limbs tangled together. At least the kid isn’t getting the shit beat out of him anymore. And if anyone hits him, it’s Koujaku at the breakfast table, chiding him to stop drinking soda so early in the morning and asking why does he even have cans of it in Koujaku’s fridge.

Then Koujaku comes home after a long day of cutting hair, Noiz is on the same couch he left him at that morning. Noiz looks up to welcome him, says he ordered delivery pizza for dinner. Koujaku grumbles about the calories but kisses the top of Noiz’  blond head for being thoughtful. He pulls back and Noiz stops typing at his holographic screens. Noiz is staring so Koujaku stares back, and it clicks.

This is exactly like the movie they saw with Aoba, Clear, and Mizuki last weekend. Minus the tinkling musical score and matchmaking friends.

Noiz dubbed them officially dating, Koujaku made it exclusive not long afterward.

One month later, Koujaku is doing push ups and Noiz is trying to breach third base. 

“Don’t just say ‘ _ah_ ’,” Noiz grouses, short brows meeting in the middle. “This is… different… from before.”

Of course it is, it should be. Koujaku counts his fiftieth push then lowers himself, kissing Noiz full on the mouth. His hands slip from their unshakeable grip on the floor and he carefully drapes his toned form over the paler body beneath. Noiz licks at the seam of his lips and Koujaku lets him in, lining up their bodies so that his crotch is pressed firmly against Noiz’ hip. Not that Noiz could tell that there’s morning wood pressed against him by any means, Koujaku’s just playing safe, lest the wandering hands cruising his back dips lower.

Koujaku’s musk fills his every breath and Noiz moans, arching up and pulling Koujaku down at the same time to get a deeper taste. The inside of Koujaku’s mouth is wet-hot, the slick texture of his tongue tantalizing Noiz’ limited senses. Noiz recognizes that tightness winding up around his groin, puffs of air misting where their mouths part for the briefest moment. “Koujaku…”

He knows that look well and god only knows how he’d managed to resist it for so long. Koujaku can feel Noiz’ erection jutting up, half-hard against his thigh. He licks his lips, watching blown out pupils follow the movement as Noiz’ chest pushes against him, faintly concealing his frantic heartbeats. Ahh, Koujaku wants to eat him up, no man should be able to look so adorable and seductive at the same time.

“Now?” Noiz presses, a slightly desperate hitch in his tone.

“Mmm.” Koujaku nuzzles close, squeezing at Noiz’ hip. “O–”

The teakettle lets out a shrill whistle.

Koujaku looks up, hearing Noiz groan in frustration below.

“Shit, the food.”

Noiz covers his face with his hands, clearly scowling beneath his palms. He shoos Koujaku away when the man tries to apologize while scrambling to stand up at the same time.

The pork buns are salvaged and Koujaku makes tea for two. Noiz doesn’t attempt to hide his staring at the bulge on Koujaku’s crotch.

He was _so close_ and the mood was _perfect_ but then –

_Let’s get physical, physical  
I wanna get physical_

“Eat up,” Koujaku talks over the radio, settling into the seat across Noiz like nothing was amiss. His sunny disposition, however, is strained by the smirk he just can’t tamp down, amused at how their morning has turned out.

_Let me hear your body talk, your body talk  
Let me hear your body talk_

Noiz grabs a bun, bites it, and chews aggressively.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cute date idea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original post.](http://hopaiskalos.tumblr.com/post/139268858892)

“Now that you’re here, we can go on dates, yeah?” Noiz grins, getting an enthusiastic nod in reply. He is, however, surprised when Koujaku promptly pulls out his sword and no, that’s not a euphemism. Sadly.

“We’ll go to the zoo,” Koujaku declares, smile growing brighter when Noiz’ expression perks up. “And you point out all the baby bunnies you like.”

“Okay.” Noiz agrees, eager, though he eyes the weapon in Koujaku’s hand with caution. “What’s the sword for?”

Koujaku puffs out his chest, confidently declaring, “I’m going to jump in the pen and fight them to win your affection!” 

* * *

 

“Look at him! Isn’t he cu– _Koujaku!_ ”

“What?”

“Put the sword away.”

“But–”

“No.”

“But!!”

“ _Now.”_

 _“Fiiine._ ”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ours is a hunger that cannot be sated  
> part 1/???

The spare key is hidden under an unassuming rock, typical and old-fashioned though Noiz had his money on one of the potted plants, greatly disappointed to be proven wrong. Koujaku appears predictable but he really isn’t. Noiz wasn’t going for the spare key anyway. He plucks the safety pin from his necktie and gets the front door open with practiced ease. Noiz is careful not to disturb the door chime as he slips in, he doesn’t want to draw attention. There’s the umbrella stand gathering dust, the usual pairs of shoes, nothing new -- as much as Koujaku is hailed as some local casanova, Nozi has never really seen him bring any women home. At least, not while Noiz is in the house.

Noiz has made himself a frequent enough guest at Koujaku’s place so he figures sneaking in this time shouldn’t even matter. Usually, his stays revolve around having to rest his injuries; Koujaku has a knack for finding him beaten up in alleyways, a new favorite habit of his now that Rhyme’s servers have all crashed without hope of recovery. Other stays are borne of sheer boredom, as annoying the older man remains as one of his favorite past times.

This time, though, Noiz is here for food.

His regular (if usually uninvited) guest status left Koujaku no choice but to allocate fridge space for Noiz’ unfinished delivery orders. There’s always a slice or three of pizza in the fridge now, but Noiz is looking for a drink. Apparently, the line of fizzy kiwi sodas he’d come to like was discontinued. He couldn’t find tab nor bottle in any market or convenience store and, really, he’s pretty pissed. There are _very_ few things that even make him even remotely happy right now.

Noiz maneuvers through the pitch-black with only the lighted face of his Pseudo Rabbit cube for guidance. It’s around half past nine in the evening, usually Koujaku would still be up and about. Then again, old men like him don’t have much stamina. Noiz chuckles at the thought, finally reaching the kitchen.

A bright rectangle illuminates the chairs and table, catching at the granite top, reflecting on the sink. Mouth open, Noiz catches a bit of the cool air, then he finds the sought-after sodas, hitching his mouth into a grin. He grabs one and drinks it right there.

_Aahhh._

He savors the taste, fills his mouth with the bubbly drink, sloshes it around. The taste invigorates him and Noiz spends no few happy moments just standing there, gulping it down. He smacks his lips once the can is empty, the last drop splashing on his pierced tongue. There are two more cans left from the six-pack he’d bought last week.

Who would have thought things could change so much in such a short span of time?

Noiz decides to save them for later. Much, much later since they’re evidently out of production.

Looking around, Noiz considers leaving now that he got what he came for but innate curiosity leads him deeper into the quiet home. His steps are muffled, eyes now adjusted to the darkness.

Maybe Koujaku isn’t home? Stayed at a lady friend’s place, perhaps? Getting lucky?

Noiz entertains these thoughts, wondering why there’s suddenly some sour aftertaste on his tongue. If Koujaku isn’t home, then Noiz should be free to crash for the night. He makes his way to the bedroom - the main one, not the guest rooms he’d been cooped up in recuperating. Koujaku’s bedroom smells nicer, lived in, unsterile. He takes a turn down the hallway and stops.

There’s light in the main bedroom. Dim light that tells him its occupant is on his way to sleep. Maybe smoking a cigar as he cools down from the day.

Noiz hovers by the door, debating if he should just throw it open (and maybe give Koujaku a heart attack heh) or if it’s better to take a peek first.

Just because he hasn’t seen Koujaku take home a woman _before_ doesn’t mean he couldn’t have someone in there _right now_. He can hear movement, after all. Rustling sheets and quiet grunts. So why on earth is he still standing there? Listening like some pervert. Koujaku could be balls deep in someone right now --- and that is _really_ the worst mental image to conjure. His mind is assaulted by visions of hair - long, light-colored, yanked back by scarred fists - small waists and wide hips, feral canines sinking into rosy skin.

A bandaged hand flies to his mouth. Noiz doesn’t trust his throat to hold down the noise threatening to escape him. His thoughts won’t - _can’t_ \- be held back in the same manner. Now that he has entertained the idea, he picks up even more evidences to support it. He hears shuddering breaths, the wet sounds of skin contact. He expects to hear a whimpering female, probably screaming praises or begging but there is none. Only gruff and rumbling breaths.

A man then?

For all that he teases Koujaku of playing for both teams, he never actually thought he’d have guts enough to pursue his (not-so) secret inclinations.

“A-Argh-gh--”

Wide-eyed, Noiz dares to press closer, biting his tongue when he recognizes Koujaku’s voice. Koujaku _moaning_. Something strong flares to life inside him. He needs to know who is making Koujaku sound so undone. He listens, uncaring now how must’ve looked. He _has_ to know who else is in there.

“...kah--hng nnnn..”

The more Noiz listens, the more obvious it becomes that there is only one voice making all that noise. A noise that’s growing louder, reverberating with power, chasing breaths with guttural moans. Noiz swallows. Somehow finding out that Koujaku jacking off alone is worse than if Noiz walked in on him with someone else. He should leave. He should leave immediately.

“NNna-h _hahn_ \- _Noi--z hah--_.”

 _Shit. Shit fucking fuck shit_.

It’s a miracle Noiz didn’t trip, all but running away from the room. His mouth feels dry, parched. His own two feet hinder his escape, halting every few steps as if they wished to run in the opposite direction, run run and run bursting into that room. Noiz makes it as far as the living room couch where he collapses and burrows into the cushions.

All this time -- All this time, Koujaku had been rebuffing his advances, keeping him a steady arm’s length away when he attempts to show gratitude to the man for patching him up. Koujaku -- who would smile and ruffle his hair and insist that he rest, who gets smeared a beautiful red when he finishes Noiz’ fights for him, turning towards Noiz in a suddenly warmer shade as he berates his carelessness and then proceeds to _care_ for him -- that same Koujaku is apparently getting off to him right now.

(Unless there’s someone else on this god forsaken island named _Noiz_ , but what are the chances of that?)

He should’ve just barged in there. Demanded what the hell is wrong with the guy. Maybe Koujaku isn’t even masturbating in there. Noiz just assumed, jumped to conclusions because of stupid hormones and not enough sense (of the common and the tactile kind). Maybe Koujaku’s having a nightmare, calling out Noiz’ name because Noiz is causing him trouble even in sleep.

Crushing a whimper between gritted teeth, Noiz resolutely ignores the tight twisting of his insides. The heat stirring low in his gut is something he’d always chased after, any sort of feeling he welcomes out of desperation but this -- not this, he doesn’t want _this_.

Noiz wants to punch something. He wants to punch Koujaku in particular but he can’t even stomach the idea of seeing him right now. So why is he still on his couch, breathing in Koujaku’s pervading scent from the cushion? His emotions are a tangled ball in his chest, prickling and electric, he’s afraid he’ll combust.

But he doesn’t.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ours is a hunger that cannot be sated  
> part 2 / ????

Daybreak is pink and golden, unsympathetic to his troubled mind. His eyelids are heavy, eyes dry and so sick of counting every rust-colored thread on this couch. There’s one wiry thread in particular that irks him, sticking out defiantly from the rest and Noiz pulls at it intending to break it off. The string refuses to snap as if to spite him. He’s got it wrapped around two fingers, pulling and pulling, but it remains stubbornly attached. In the end, he’s got about half a foot of rusty thread dangling off his hand and a small hole on the cushion with white stuffing peeking out. Noiz’ hand flops uselessly beside his face, shaking off the wrinkled thread.

Koujaku is gonna be pissed.

 

Green eyes snap wide open at the sound of creaking floorboards. When had he fallen asleep? What time is it? It’s still morning, so it couldn’t have been --

Another creak, another step.

Noiz can’t hear much aside from that. No panicked muttering, no haggard breaths, just careful and even steps, until

“Fucking hell... Thought it was some burglar but it’s just--“

The low murmur of relief is short-lived. Noiz hears the heavy swallow, smells the trepidation that settles into the room. A dull clunk comes from somewhere far behind him and lighter footsteps approach; Koujaku had set his weapon aside.

“Noiz?”

_ That’s not how you moaned my name last night. _ Noiz can’t help but compare, can’t help but want to hear it again just to know if his reaction will be the same. His lack of reaction keeps Koujaku hovering close.

“... Shit. Koujaku, you fucking idiot. He was right there… He’s -- fuck, calm down… Calm down, stop talking to yourself.”

Half a minute of strained silence.

“Noiz?”

A little louder than before, coupled with a tentative shake of his shoulder. Koujaku is trying to wake him, then. Fine. Noiz unburies himself from the cushions, squinting and looking every bit the irritable sleep-deprived youth that he is. “What?”

The panic has not quite subsided in Koujaku’s eyes. If anything, it seemed to increase twice-fold when Noiz meets his gaze.

“What are you doing on my couch?”

“I’m dancing,” Noiz deadpans, remaining in a staunch recline.

A corner of Koujaku’s lips twitches, an almost-laugh that’s subdued by the fervent furrow of his brows. “What happened? Did you get in a fight?”

“Nothing like that.”

“Then what?”

Unbidden, Noiz’ stomach grumbles. Koujaku’s gaze drops to the gurgling abomination. Noiz has enough shame to blush, he sits up, looks off to the side.  “I’m hungry.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Koujaku moves away, a determination in his steps leading towards the kitchen. “Alright, get up, we’re having breakfast.”

 

Noiz watches Koujaku parade about in a tightly-tied robe and house slippers, his long dark hair tied in a loose ponytail at the base of his neck. He waits to be chastised, to be called on to help with the preparations but neither of which comes. Koujaku has most of his ingredients set out by now, he’s filling a teapot with water at the sink. He’s kept his back to Noiz all this time.

Quickly, soundlessly, Noiz comes up behind Koujaku, locking his arms around the older man’s middle and pressing close.

“Keh--” Water sloshes out of the aluminum pot, Koujaku nearly drops it in his surprise. He had sensed the approach but kept deluding himself that Noiz would turn away at the last moment, that he would be allowed space to gather himself, piece together a guiltless mask so he can face Noiz for an entire meal without needing to skin himself because it would have been too much. Too much and now Noiz is close and he’s warm and unshakeable and Koujaku feels the deep inhale siphoning the scent off his back. He’s scared stiff, nothing but unhelpful static in his mind.

“... Noiz.”

_ Wrong. Still wrong _ . Noiz grips Koujaku tighter, pulling the robe apart, groping blindly.

“Hey!”

Anger. The hollow clang of the teapot is followed by a restriction in his movements, both hands locked with expert ease. Koujaku’s calm mask chipped off in places. If Noiz can just push a bit further, dig a little deeper.

“Back off.” Koujaku barks, growls, vowels crushed under stiff consonants.

Noiz knows rejection when it’s staring -- glaring -- him in the face. He could probably still twist this around, make Koujaku eat his words and then some but… did he really even want to? They could keep pushing and pushing until someone breaks. Noiz has been broken many times, physically, mentally, he was  _ born _ broken and there’s no fix for that. Nineteen years of disconnection, surviving on scraps of human contact, of tolerance only at par with his usefulness.

In that moment, Noiz has never felt more useless.

Deeply furrowed brows ease up, partly in confusion, as Noiz takes a step back. Koujaku hopes it’s only a trick of the light, but Noiz’ eyes looked dimmer. With a fierce tug, Noiz frees himself from the slackened grip.

“Alright,” Noiz says, walking right out of the house without looking back.

Koujaku stands in the middle of the kitchen, his robe haphazardly holding on. The silence rings in his ears.


End file.
